


Frank

by Falt



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade
Genre: Angst, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 11:39:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19084267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falt/pseuds/Falt
Summary: Spoilers for Season 3, Episode 1: Dead RoadJasper's had Frank in his cage for a little while. This takes place between Jasper's Season 2 epilogue and the first episode of Season 3.





	Frank

**Author's Note:**

> This is not the fic I intended to write, but I'm proud of it nonetheless.

Jasper’s alone in his haven when he receives a text from Abrams.

_I have a new target for you. -A_

He’s relieved; he hasn’t eaten in over a week and the Beast has become a near constant nagging companion. Usually he can ignore the incessant whispers, or snidely reply aloud when there’s no one around to hear. But now responding doesn’t help at all, and Jasper’s taken to burying himself in improving his Latin to try and forget about his hunger.

He marks his place in the tome and shuts it, sitting back in his chair to text back, lithe fingers hitting the tiny keys.

_Who? Where? -J_

His laptop pings then, and he checks his email to find an encrypted dossier. Decrypting the file provides details on one of Jasper’s own clan—where he can usually be found, who he usually hangs around, his known abilities. It doesn’t say why, not that Jasper’s ever asked. He trusts Abrams, and their agreement (generous on Abram’s part—who knows what the Kindred downtown would say or do if they ever discovered what the Baron permitted Jasper) necessitates privacy on either side.

Jasper closes his laptop and sends another text.

_Timeline? -J_

The reply is near immediate.

_Within the week. -A_

He nods to himself, pocketing the phone and standing. Acceptable; his stomach will ensure the task is carried out within forty-eight hours.

It takes nineteen. An easy catch; the target is none too bright and falls into the laid trap easily. The Nosferatu—Frank, the dossier said—is in Jasper’s cage before 11 p.m. the next night. And finally, _finally_ , he feeds. 

The taste of Kindred vitae causes him to moan against the captured Nosferatu’s neck in spite of himself. He could drain his prisoner dry if he’s not careful. He knows he’s let himself get too hungry this time, and it’s all too difficult to stop. Jasper must ration, or he’ll only put himself in the same position once more.

He lets Frank drop limply to the cell floor when he’s finished. He makes a note to bring him a meal later. He settles back into his chair and resumes his studies with the tome he had set aside the night before, his head blessedly silent for the first time in weeks.

It’s several nights later when he receives word about Chloe. His stomach feels like a pit, low and cold in his stomach, and he texts Eva to ask her to meet him, calling in one of his favors. He hurriedly cleans up the body of the meal he had brought Frank earlier that night before heading out, ignoring the captive’s questions and shouted pleas.

 

~~~

 

_What did they do to you?_

_You won’t even look at me._

_You’re as handsome as ever._

_What did they do to you?_

_What did they do to you?_

_What did they do—_ Jasper snarls at the echo of Chloe’s voice and Eva’s disappointed expression in his head as he slams the door to his haven, withered arm held gingerly to his abdomen. He needs to heal, but he needs Kindred blood. He’s already hungry, and expending enough energy to bring his arm back to normal will only mean trouble if he doesn’t feed.

He makes his way to Frank’s cell. The Kindred scrambles to his feet as soon as Jasper enters the room, surprised to see him so soon. He glances at his captor’s injured limb but says nothing, fear and confusion painted across his face.

Jasper goes for the latch of the cell but pauses, hand hovering over the bars as he studies the man in the cell. An idea crosses his mind. He digs the nails of his good hand into his palm and resolves himself, ignoring the pain and hunger wracking his body. He sits crossed legged on the floor outside the cell, waiting for Frank to do the same. 

There must be some expression on Jasper’s face that speaks to the captive Nosferatu, because Frank follows his lead after only a couple moments.

“Are you alright?” Frank asks, voice quiet, careful.   

Jasper doesn’t acknowledge the question. He starts off with vague promises in exchange for answers, though none of those promises are ones he intends to keep. He needs Frank compliant.

He begins asking his questions, and to his surprise, Frank answers without hesitation. Whether it’s because he believes Jasper’s promises to let him go should he cooperate or if he’s resigned to the fact that resisting is most likely useless doesn’t matter. Perhaps he simply believes his answers to be inconsequential. Perhaps he believes answering will appeal to his captor’s humanity.

The questions are all about Nosferatu sires, trending towards possibilities for who could have turned Jasper. Frank’s answers are mostly useless, but Jasper does glean some insight that could help with future inquiry and investigation.

“Why do you want to know?” Frank asks carefully when Jasper’s interrogation comes to an end.

“I need to know who did this to me,” Jasper replies simply, standing slowly.

Frank stands as well, unconsciously stepping backward toward the far corner, as far from the door as he can manage. “Why does it matter? What’s done is done.”

Jasper opens the cage door and Frank whimpers softly. He smiles, cruelly baring his fangs.

_What did they do to you?_  

“What they did to me doesn’t matter. What matters is what I’m going to do to them.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm glad the show is back. As always, shout-out to the cast and crew for this amazing story.  
> Comments and gentle criticism are always welcome.


End file.
